Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

"Max," Mark said, his voice calm but chillingly sincere, "you truly are one of a kind."

That same smile remained on his face—measured, calculating.

"Infernal energy… it's not something just anyone can wield. It corrupts. Destroys. Eats away at the soul. But you…" His eyes glinted. "You can contain it. With no backlash. No side effects. That's what surprised me the most."

As he spoke, the massive sphere of red infernal energy hovering in the center of the ruined hall began to shift.

From its surface, a single tendril of infernal energy slithered outward—thin, alive, and pulsating like a living vein of fire. It snaked through the air, glowing with ominous red light, and moved slowly but purposefully toward Max.

Max's eyes widened.

"No…"

He immediately stepped back, retreating as far as he could, his instincts screaming at him. But before he could take more than a few steps, his entire body froze.

Yanked by something unseen.

An invisible force gripped him like chains of air, dragging him forward—his feet scraping across the cracked floor—until he was standing directly in front of the massive sphere of infernal energy.

"No! Get away from me!" Max roared, lightning and black flames bursting violently from his body in every direction.

Purple lightning crackled across his skin, black flames erupted from his shoulders, lashing out like wild serpents. The ground beneath him cracked, scorched, and burned—but nothing worked.

He couldn't move.

He was trapped.

Paralyzed by a force too ancient and overwhelming to resist.

And then—

The red tendril of energy from the sphere touched his palm.

Right where his eleven-layered infernal demon tattoo was etched.

In that instant, the connection was made.

Like a circuit coming to life, the entire mass of infernal energy in the sphere jolted forward, streaming into Max's body through the tattoo.

"NO!!" Max screamed as the infernal energy surged into him.

It was like being struck by a tidal wave of fire and blood. His entire body trembled violently as the tattoo on his palm glowed brighter—shifting from dull red to a deep, blood-colored hue that pulsed with every beat of his heart.

The sphere began to shrink rapidly.

All the infernal energy—every last drop—was being funneled into Max's body.

His tattoo writhed and expanded, growing up past his wrist, then his forearm… and soon, it wrapped around his entire right arm.

From his fingertips to his shoulder—his flesh turned blood red.

But it didn't stop there.

His right eye darkened—its white replaced by black, and the iris burned a haunting red. Infernal markings spread across the side of his face, crawling up his jaw, over his cheekbone, and toward his temple.

And then—

The sphere disappeared.

Completely absorbed.

Gone.

A thick, tense silence blanketed the hall as every eye fell on Max.

Everyone saw it.

The tattoo on his arm had changed.

It had evolved.

A new ring had formed—a twelfth layer.

But unlike the others, this one didn't stay confined to his arm. It extended upward—like a chain of markings—reaching toward his head, connecting to the demonic symbols etched across his face.

Max's right side now looked like it belonged to something else entirely.

Something inhuman.

Something terrifying.

He stood there, gasping for breath, barely able to process the infernal energy now coursing through him.

The transformation was complete.

The twelfth-layered infernal demon tattoo had finally manifested.

And Max… was the first being in history to bear it without being ripped apart.

He wasn't just different anymore.

He was something new.

Something dangerous.

And Mark, standing nearby, just watched with eyes full of quiet satisfaction.

Like the puppeteer who had finally completed his masterpiece.

Clap!

The sound echoed through the ruined hall like a mocking applause.

"Good," Mark said, clapping slowly, his face twisted with something between delight and madness. "Good."

His smile stretched unnaturally, eyes gleaming with eerie satisfaction.

"Now that… that is the true form of a twelve-layer infernal demon tattoo."

Max's face was stone.

Cold. Focused. But dark.

He didn't answer.

Because something inside him had shifted—something he didn't fully understand.

There was a strange energy coursing through his body now. It wasn't soul force. It wasn't mana. It wasn't even vital essence.

It was… infernal.

Thick. Heavy. Unnatural.

It pulsed through his veins like fire made flesh.

He lifted his hand, palm facing forward.

Crack!

Purple lightning erupted from his fingertips, flashing through the air with blinding speed. Space distorted where it struck, warping violently until it twisted into a shape—a circle. A spinning circle. No, a wheel.

A violently rotating wheel formed entirely from condensed lightning. Purple arcs crackled outward with each rotation, splitting the air with force and fury.

But Max wasn't done yet.

Behind him—one after another—three glowing rings of purple lightning ignited in the air, circling around his back like halos of raw power.

Third Gear.

This increased the power of the purple lightning even more. The wheel spun faster—more erratic. The ground trembled beneath their feet. The air grew heavy with electricity. Even the shattered walls of the ancient hall seemed to pulse with tension.

Still, Max pushed further.

Deep red mist seeped from the infernal demon tattoo wrapped around his right arm—corrupt, angry, alive—and flowed into the spinning wheel, merging with the lightning.

The result was monstrous.

A wheel bathed in purple lightning and blood-red infernal energy—rotating with the power to tear through realms.

The Evil Wheel of Samsara.

Max's voice was a growl. "Take this!"

And with all his strength, he hurled the wheel directly at Mark.

The wheel tore across the hall, shrieking through space like a divine executioner. Its power distorted reality, its pressure alone forcing even the paralyzed leaders to gasp in fear.

But Mark?

He didn't flinch.

Didn't dodge.

Didn't move.

He simply shook his head in mild disappointment.

"I gave you so much power," he muttered, almost sighing, "and you're using it… against me?"

The wheel touched his chest.

And shattered.

No explosion. No recoil.

It broke apart the moment it touched him—splintering into harmless fragments of lightning and red mist before fading into the air like smoke.